


Two Choices

by TwiceALady



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Romance, hansanna - Freeform, m/f penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiceALady/pseuds/TwiceALady
Summary: In an arranged marriage where Anna is sent to the debauched Southern Isles and married to Hans, the couple have yet to consummate their vows. Hans is hesitant to bed his wife as his feelings for her grow, knowing that Anna loathes him, while Anna needs him to ‘seal the deal’ to secure their marriage legally and keep her from being passed off to another brother. Hansanna pairing. Romance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A post-canon, forced arranged marriage AU I was toying with awhile ago, but could never get an actual story to form out of it. Reworked into a two part ficlet. This is a different version/idea/brainstorm on the same theme as ‘Catnip’ was. They are not related.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW. Language. Foreplay. M/F Sex. This fic explores the intimacies and awkwardness of coupling in an arranged marriage where neither are entirely comfortable with engaging in sex with the other, but are expected to and pressured to by societal standards. Please refrain from reading if this aspect of historical sex bothers you. It is consensual in the respect that both agree to perform the act according to what is expected of them to legalize the marriage. The act of sex is presented as enjoyable by both parties.

“Have you tupped her yet?”

Hans nearly choked on his drink at his brother’s question. “No.”

Espen raised his eyebrows. “You’d better get on that, unless—” his eyes drifted downwards to Hans’s lap, “you’re having problems again.”

Hans rolled his eyes, perturbed it was even brought up. “I’m _not_ impotent. There is quite a big difference between impotency and not desiring to fuck our brothers’ wives.”

“Is it that you don’t desire her either then?”

“No.” Hans could feel the heat flush across his cheeks. The problem was quite the opposite. He desired Anna very much indeed.

 “You _like_ her.” Espen laughed. “Imagine! _You_ finally sweet on someone! And it’s your wife, no less.”

“I’m not sweet on her,” Hans lied through his teeth, hoping his brother would buy it.

He didn’t.

“You would have done better to have figured out you liked her in Arendelle. Would have saved you a great deal of trouble.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hans snapped irritably, already well aware of that fact. Things would be a lot easier if Anna still thought him the dashing prince and not the vilest human being alive. Did Espen really think he hadn’t thought of that every second of every day since Anna had arrived on the Southern Isles?

“It’s your God given right to have her, you know,” Espen continued, unaffected by his brother’s sour mood. “You’re her husband, and I daresay if you don’t take her, you know one of the others will. Westergaards are men of action.”

Hans cringed at the very idea of Anna with one of his brothers. He didn’t think she’d fall easy prey to any of the ones eyeing her, but he wouldn’t put it past a certain few to try. The last thing he wanted was to be second with his own wife, but Anna despised him.

“I’m just giving her a little courtesy, and allowing her to acclimate herself to the situation first,” Hans replied as steady as he could. “She did not marry me by choice.”

“Oh, but she did.” Espen gave a sly smile. “Surely you know the conditions in which she came to the agreement?”

Hans shook his head, hating that his brother knew something about his marriage that he didn’t. He wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t exactly in his parents’ good graces at the moment. It had been obvious at the wedding that his father had been less than pleased with the match, making him wonder why his father had allowed it in the first place.

 Espen was decent enough, especially out of the twelve, but he loved to lord knowledge over everyone and anyone. He sat up straighter, his chest puffing out in a pompous sort of way that made Hans want to say something nasty, except he feared Espen would withhold information if he did.

“Father wanted your former fiancée for Lennart, but Princess Anna would not take any Westergaard as her husband, unless it was _you_. Why the Queen of Arendelle was ready to accept a declaration of war over it.”

Hans gaped at his brother. Surely there had been some sort of mistake. Anna would never pick him over one of his brothers after what he’d done to her. He quickly closed his mouth shut, schooling his expression to one of indifference, but it was too late. Espen had already seen his initial reaction. The glee revelling in his brother’s eyes was obvious.

“Your lovely wife outfoxed Father, and by doing so, elevated _your_ status within the household.” Espen gave a lofty grin. “You really had no idea, did you?”

Hans glowered at his brother. He really hadn’t had any idea. Not that he’d actually tried to hold a conversation with Anna to find out the particulars of their new arrangement.

“Go bed your wife, Hans.”

 ***

It was well into the evening when Hans stood outside the door adjoining their bedchambers. He’d been standing there in only his nightshirt for longer than he cared to admit. Restless, and haunted by Espen’s earlier words, he’d been unable to sleep. Westergaards had always been men of action, and Hans was failing. He tried to ignore the ever-growing sense of shame that had arrived the moment Anna had months ago. The moment she’d set foot on the Southern Isles, he’d felt it like a poison in his bloodstream.

He wondered if she was sleeping. He wondered if he should be disturbing her in the first place.

He shook his head softly, straightening his shoulders. It was downright silly to be afraid of one’s own wife. Anna knew the details of what a marriage required. If he decided that it was time to consummate their marriage, then Anna would know it was her wifely duty to oblige him. She was, after all, his.

_Mine_.

The thought made him giddy. Finally, something that was just for him. Something he didn’t have to share, something that wasn’t handed down from a previous owner. Anna was shiny and new, and all his.

_Westergaards are men of action._

He grasped the doorknob firmly without bothering to knock, and entered her bedchamber. She was still awake, looking up at him in alarm from the book she had been reading in bed. Her eyes were wide, but defiant, masking any fear of him she may have held. She stiffened, slowly placing the book on her bedside table as he approached her. She eyed him warily.

He froze in place at the foot of her bed, taking her in properly, the unexpected shock of her hair down catching him off guard. The strawberry blonde tresses silky and unruly, tempting his fingers to touch. Instinctively, he curled his hands into fists to curb the temptation, lest he frighten her.

He’d never seen her look so wild. Anna was the paramount of princess since she’d been here. Hardly a trace of the girl he’d met in Arendelle. Until now, he wasn’t entirely sure that woman had even existed. If he hadn’t just made her up, along with all of his other fanciful schemes and dreams. Her posture in his father’s palace was always prim and proper, her hair tucked up and neatly in place. Her manners impeccable. Her temperament docile and calm. Never a trace of the Anna he had known.

But right now? Oh sweet Lord, she was beautiful. Stunning. That fiery girl on the docks. A rush of heat coursed through him. An instant dull ache in his loins.

If it hadn’t been obvious why he was here the moment he’d opened her door, it had to be perfectly clear to her now. His aroused manhood tented the fabric of his nightshirt, making him feel just a little bit like an idiot. _Hardly attractive at all_ , he thought to himself, standing bare legged in his unflattering, boxy nightshirt before her. Looking more pathetic than seductive. In hindsight, he should have partially dressed first, he’d have cut a much better figure in a pair of his snuggest trousers and a casually unbuttoned linen shirt.

But it was what it was. He couldn’t possibly leave now and correct his mistake. He’d look even more a fool.

_Westergaards are men of action._

“There are two ways we can do this.” He began to slowly unbutton the topmost button on his nightshirt in an attempt to play the seducer. It was not lost on him that Anna shrank back into the bed, drawing the blanket up around her protectively. “I can take you quickly; which I confess will probably be uncomfortable, but it will be over and done with, and I’ll leave you just as quickly as I came. Or I can go slowly and take you as a lover would, taking the utmost care in your comfort, and spend the night in your company. The choice is yours.”

To prove he was quite serious, he tugged the nightshirt up, lifting the fabric over his head. He tossed the shirt deliberately off to the side. Standing naked, while she was still fully clothed and buried under blankets, had him immediately wishing he had planned this better. The wick of her bedside lamp was much too high, and the room far too bright to be standing here so exposed. He felt ridiculous. God, why hadn’t he thought this through? Trousers would have been so much better. Instead of feeling like a man of pure sexual prowess, like a _Westergaard_ , he felt like an utter and complete fool.

It did not help matters that Anna only stared at him, her hands clutching the blanket up to her chest. It was almost enough to make Hans retreat. She didn’t want him. He may have been her choice out of him and his brothers, but he had not been her choice outside of the forced arrangement his father had imposed on her kingdom.

And now he was standing here, stark naked, presenting himself to her like a jackass. Humiliation creeping in and replacing what little bravado he’d had to begin with.

This had been a bad idea. A really terrible idea—

“Can I change my mind if I don’t like the option I’ve chosen?” Her voice was so quiet, he’d barely heard her.

“Of course,” he answered, stopping himself from sweeping to her bedside and taking her hand in his. He fought down a swell of unexpected excitement. She was willing to accept him. It was a good start, and he dearly hoped she’d pick option two.

He was trying to pretend that he didn’t care one way or the other which she decided to go with. But the allure of spending an evening between her thighs and hearing her moan in pleasure had him already growing harder. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t given her the choice in the matter at all.

“How quick are we talking for option one?” she asked, her tone very business-like, as though they were discussing trade and not the act of copulation.

His heart sunk at the question. “Minutes, if you allow me to ready myself first.” He was already hard, his cock itching to be touched, but her yelping in pain would certainly stave off any quick orgasm unless he brought himself close to release before hand. But if that was what she wanted of him, he would oblige her. He’d already decided to give her a choice in the matter, and would not negate her control.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Ready yourself how?”

Her question threw him off. Surely, she was familiar with…no, perhaps not. She did only have a sister, and no brothers. And her mother was no longer alive to have given her proper instruction. Likely whatever she’d received had come from some old biddy lady in waiting. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I would stroke myself before hand to…speed up the…um, to…uh…” He felt his face go red. _Great_ , now he looked like an even bigger idiot.

“Option one then, please.”

Hans fought the urge to dissuade her and nodded stiffly instead. He didn’t want to admit that part of him was hurt by her decision, though he rather expected that she would want him gone from her sight as quickly as possible, no matter the cost.

He would perform accordingly to her wishes. He could do this quickly.

With a deep breath, he moved his hand to his length and Anna’s eyes followed. He’d always known that out of his siblings, he was well gifted in the area of endowment, a fact that pleased him beyond measure. But with Anna staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers, and her soft lips parted slightly in shock, pride coursed through him.

He’d never had a woman look at him quite like _that_. There was an innocence there, dancing with fear and apprehension with the distinct hint of curiosity, wonder, and dare he dream, _desire_. He slipped his palm over the shaft, stroking gently at first, working himself into a steadier rhythm. Unable to tear his eyes from hers while he touched himself. God, he wouldn’t last long at all at this rate. But that was the idea, wasn’t it? He’d underestimated the effect she had on him. The head of his cock was already slick with precum as he slipped the foreskin back, readying himself for the act.

With a final bit of encouragement, he reminded himself that she was his. All his.

His voice was hoarse with lust when he spoke to her, “Out from the covers, Anna.”

Her lip trembled, but she did as she was told. She pushed back the covers, revealing her nightgown and then her bare ankles and feet. She lay before him, stiff as a board, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Just do it already,” she whispered.

He advanced on her then, climbing into her bed and straddling himself above her. A sob escaped her lips as he pushed the nightgown up over her thighs, bunching it at her waist. Her whole body trembled now, and she turned her head to the side, eyes still clenched shut.

“Open your legs for me,” he instructed, “and try to relax. I promise I’ll do this as quickly as possible. You won’t even need to remove your drawers.”

She only nodded, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was terrified, though she was trying really hard to hide it from him. He’d never taken a frightened virgin before, and watching her react to him in fear and repulsion had him going limper by the second.  He hesitated. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this.

_Westergaards are men of action_.

“Anna,” he coaxed as gently as he could, unsure if he could actually go through with this, knowing very well that each and every one of his brothers would quite easily. “The sooner we do this, the sooner I’ll leave you be.”

“I changed my mind.”

Startled, Hans backed off of her as though he’d been slapped; crawling to the empty spot beside her on the bed. “I beg your pardon?”

She looked at him then, her eyes sharp and angry, almost accusatory. “You said I could at any time.”

He blinked stupidly at her, seeking clarification. “You wish to change your mind to option two?”

“Yes.” She scowled at him. “But I will keep my eyes shut the entire time.”

It was music to his ears. Option two. She wanted option two, and she didn’t want to have to see him to boot! She wanted a fantasy lover! He could slip on darkness like an old friend, like his favourite topcoat. And in that moment, he felt weightless. He could be exactly what she wanted.

“I’ll do you one better, my love,” he placated sweetly before he reached over her without touching to blow out the bedside light.

***

The room flicked into darkness and Anna gasped involuntarily. Hans had pulled away from her, back to his side of the bed once the flame was out. She wasn’t at all sure that she liked this new arrangement. Not being able to see Hans or what he was doing was unnerving. The absence of light had her senses heightened, all alert and on edge. She flinched when she heard him shift his weight beside her.

“Would you permit me a few kisses?” His voice was smoky and soft in the dark. He sounded distinctly different than he had only moments ago. It was as though all his harshness had dissolved with the light.

Anna knew she couldn’t say no. She was his _wife_. She belonged to him now. While it was admirable, even for Hans, to give her some say in the matter, in the end, she was his. And she had agreed to this. She had changed her mind, opting to take him as a lover tonight instead of quickly getting the act over and done with. Either way, tonight was the night they would consummate their vows.

She knew what was expected of her, knew this night was coming. Hans had already granted her plenty of reprieve from the act of coupling with him. He didn’t have to, but he had anyway, even at the cost of his reputation. She knew it was for her sake, just as she knew he couldn’t hold off the inevitable forever.

Any longer and questions would be raised, people would talk louder, and then God forbid, the sharks would circle. Anna had seen enough hungry looks from the twins to know that Hans had been the right choice in a husband. For all his stiff coldness, Hans couldn’t hold a candle to how terrifying she found the rest of the Westergaard brood.

“Yes,” she answered him in barely a whisper.

She had expected her lips when he’d said kisses, but his body slunk lower onto the bed, and Anna felt the coolness of his absence, all the heat of his body now pooled at the end of the bed. She had little time to wonder what it was he was doing before she felt the delicate brush of lips against the top of her bare foot.

_Oh_.

Her lips parted in a soft sigh, whether from relief or something else, she wasn’t sure. He kissed her again, just as soft, only this time at her ankle. It was such an unexpected sensation to feel his lips upon her body and not on her mouth. She’d never considered being kissed elsewhere before.

He moved slowly, continuing to plant the most delicate of kisses up her leg, drawing up to a stop at her knee and the hem of her drawers. Anna half wanted him to push the fabric up and continue his trail of kisses upwards and onto her thighs, but she was not nearly bold enough to voice such a request. Her cheeks flushed hot for even thinking such a thing. It was Hans, she reminded herself diligently. And she did not like Hans.

In all honesty, she had not anticipated that she would actually enjoy his touch. She thought she’d be repulsed, and recoil at the feel of him against her body. But the way he moved, so slow, and so unassuming with feathery, barely-there kisses had caught her off guard.

His lips moved from her knee cap, and his body drifted back down the bed again. Anna lifted her head in confusion, trying to catch sight of him in the dark, when he moved to her opposite leg. Another delicate kiss starting at the top of her foot, followed by impeccably slow kisses up her leg had her inexplicably hot this time around. She squirmed a little when he reached the kneecap and paused.

“Anna?” His voice was uncharacteristically breathy and restrained, and sounded all the more pleasant to her ears in the dark. “Permit me to touch you with my hands?”

“Yes,” she answered, only slightly ashamed at how quickly she responded.

No sooner had she given him permission than he touched her. His hand was firm and warm against her calf, gently lifting it from the bed. She gasped in surprise when she felt his lips on the back of her knee. Briefly wondering how the hell he’d managed to maneuver himself in a position to do so in the first place without her noticing.

He’d noted her response, and placed another kiss on the back of her knee with much more force than his previous kisses. His bangs slipped up between her drawers and skin, tickling the back of her thigh, sending delectable shivers through her body as his kisses became much quicker in succession. When his tongue darted along the crease on the back of her knee, she bit back a moan.

Her body was not supposed to respond to him like this at all. Anna couldn’t deny the heat of arousal between her thighs that the mere lick of his tongue had caused. Instinctively, she clenched her pelvic muscles, wanting to cross her ankles together if only for the bit of friction between her legs that it would provide. Ashamed that what she really wanted was to splay them wide for him.

She drew in a sharp breath when she felt his hand, warm and wide slip up her thigh, teasing her through the fabric of her drawers, squirming when his other hand did the same on her opposite thigh. His hands were huge, she mused, feeling the warmth of his touch sink through the fabric to her skin. Both hands had moved up her thighs, over her hips and she was reminded of how good his hands had felt on her waist when they had danced. How she had just seemed to fit into him so perfectly, her soft curves with his hard angles—

Her eyes snapped open in shock when she realized his hands were busy untying the string of her drawers. On instinct, she pushed his hands away, and he drifted back, his fingers slipping from the cord, not putting up any sort of fight, and backing off. He hovered above her, quiet, patient, waiting.

“You said I wouldn’t have to remove those,” she reminded.

“With option one,” he corrected, and Anna could just hear the sly smile on his lips. “ _This_ is option two.”

She stiffened, immediately wanting to pull away from him, and far out of his reach. “You tricked me.”

“You can take them off yourself, if you’d like,” he replied conversationally.

Anna huffed, her temper suddenly flaring. “And make this easier for you? I doubt it!”

“Suit yourself.”

And although she couldn’t see him, she was almost positive he had shrugged. As though making love to her was no big deal, or whatever she chose was of no consequence to him. She fumed silently. Hating how skewed the relationship was now that she was wed. Now that she was literal property to someone who did not and would never love her.

“Oh dear.” And his tongue clicked softly. Playful, teasing, and Anna hated, _hated_ that it made her body tingle. “It seems I’ve made you angry.”

“I’m always angry,” she answered automatically. “I’ve been angry ever since—” She bit off her words. It wouldn’t do any good to voice anything she’d felt since she’d been forced to leave Arendelle and wed Hans. It wasn’t as if he’d care, or even understand.

“Anna?” he asked, his voice now liquid sex, and Anna had to take a deep breath to calm her herself and the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It was needlessly unfair that his voice could turn her bones to jelly, and it was unbelievably cruel that he could sound _that_ good in the dark.

She ground her teeth, clenching her jaw tight. “What?”

“Permit me a few more kisses?”

“Wha—” She faltered, thrown off by his question. “ _No!_ I’m angry with you, remember?”

She felt him shift his weight, one leg climbing over her body so that he was now straddling her without touching her, his body hovering directly above her.

“Am I to assume this is a lover’s quarrel then?” _Again_ with that light, teasing tone.

Anna closed her eyes, trying her damnedest to block him out, to ignore him, to will him away. “We aren’t lovers.”

“Yet,” he finished for her, and Anna wanted to slap him almost as much as she wanted him to make good on that. She was conflicted to say the least, her body responding to him much more positively than she had ever anticipated. She couldn’t deny that she was curious, and found him strangely arousing despite everything she knew he was.

But once he’d claimed her, then what? She’d seen the sad, pale faces of the other Westergaard wives, fat with child, ignored, neglected, passed by for some pretty, little serving girl once they’d served their purpose then shared with the others like leftovers. Was that to be Anna’s fate? Become a Westergaard brood mare and live out her days lonely and miserable, popping out babies while her husband flaunted his indiscretions in her face?

“Hans?” she asked quietly. “What happens to us afterwards?”

“What do you mean?”

“Once you’ve had me, what will you do?”

“Have you again, if you’ll permit me?” There was a lick of confusion there in his voice, as if he didn’t quite understand what she was getting at. She didn’t know why, but it was comforting to hear him slightly hesitant and unsure of himself. It reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with on the Arendelle docks. The man she had no idea existed or not beneath the surface of Hans. Or if it had all been a lie.

“What are you really like?” she mused aloud.

“Whatever you want me to be,” he whispered, the desperation not lost on her, and she wondered if he even knew what he was really like or if a lifetime of lies had made him forget.

“I—” She hesitated, the room suddenly seemed smaller, closer, far more intimate than it was moments ago. It was just her and Hans, alone together in the dark. No distractions, nothing to focus on but each other. “I just want you to be you.”

He inhaled, the sound much louder in the still blackness of the room. If it had not been for the audible intake of air, Anna would have thought he hadn’t heard her. His entire body stiffened, stirring the air between them, the exhale of breath hot against her neck, and in that single, sole moment she thought that maybe she could kiss him, and like it.

“Hans?”

“You don’t want that,” he answered, and with that, he was off the bed and away from her, slipping across the room. She heard the click of their adjoining door before the lamp light from his room made her squint, shielding her eyes from the unexpected brightness. The door closed and then the light was gone. And so was Hans.

Leaving her alone and confused in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Damn it.

Damn _her_.

The moment the door had clicked shut, he fisted his cock, urgently jerking himself, seeking immediate relief for his desire and frustration. He stifled an aggravated groan as he came quickly, spilling into his hand. It was so unfair how fast she could wind him up.

He stalked over to his washbasin, somewhat sated, but unable to settle his nerves. This night was a disaster.

_How dare she?_

He splashed cool water on his face, reaching for the nearby towel. She had no business asking that of him. No business at all. What had she been thinking? What had _he_ been thinking, even giving her a choice in the matter in the first place? If his father ever found out the amount of leeway he’d given Anna—

God, he hoped Espen kept his fucking mouth shut.

Hans pulled the towel from his face and sighed, staring back at his reflection in the mirror. He was completely naked, having left Anna and his favourite nightshirt in her room. Naked and vulnerable. A total jackass. An utter failure. Defeated, he flopped down on his bed, burrowing under the blankets in hopes that he would just disappear.

Tonight was supposed to have been the night he seduced her. Took her, claimed her as his wife like he should have done ages ago. Like he should have done the first night they were married. Like any single one of his brothers and brethren would have done.

But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it.

Anna hated him, and all while he—

He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. How the hell could he like her _now_? Why couldn’t it have been in Arendelle? When she had looked at him like he was the entire world and all that had mattered? When she had loved being in his embrace, welcomed his touch? When she had actually _wanted_ to be his?

Not now.

Not now when she could see just how pathetic and useless he was. How unimportant he was. He was no one of note. Teased and ridiculed, each day a new awful tidbit of his faults being whispered to her by one of _them_. God only knew the things she’d heard about him already.

How could she possibly want him to just be himself? Who would ever want that? Hans had learned long ago that life was so much better, so much easier if he just played along, just conformed, just acted like they all did. Wore the clothes, put on the mask, crafted the persona. It hadn’t been perfect, but it _had_ been easier.

Until Anna.

Until Anna came along doing everything he’d always hated. Purposely asking him things, arguing with him, defying him, infuriating and arousing him. Confusing him. And with each bit of resistance she gave him, she was slowly slipping under his skin trying to get at the heart of him. And she was succeeding.

God damn it. She was winning.

It should have been nothing at all to him to bed her. Nothing at all. The desire was there. The lust was there. He wanted her. God, he’d wanted her the moment she’d stepped onto the Southern Isles. He’d never wanted a woman so badly in his life. The minute her eyes had locked with his, her gaze steeling over with contempt and determination, he could already imagine himself slipping into her so deeply that she’d want to scream his name in ecstasy. He’d soften that gaze. He’d win her back. She was already his anyway.

But Anna was not quite the same girl he remembered in Arendelle. There was something quicker, sharper about her than before. She was like a perfectly concealed weapon now. And Hans knew danger when he saw it. Anna was dangerous…only not in the way he’d anticipated.

He was realizing only too late the imbalance between them, and how Anna was now the one with the upper hand. It was maddening. She didn’t care one bit about him…and he, well, he’d give anything to have her look at him with affection again.

And so, he’d been doing his damnedest trying to impress her, trying to be the man he thought she wanted, trying to be the husband and lover every girl would dream of. He gave her space. He gave her all the comforts he could afford her. She should have been content.

‘ _I’m always angry_ ,’ she’d told him. Even still. Even after giving her time. Even after giving her space. Even after giving her the best he had to offer.

It was like fighting against the tide.

He’d spent his life longing for things that were out of his reach. But nothing had prepared him for wanting a woman that was out of his reach. Nothing had prepared him for actually wanting to make her happy. Wanting her to love him. It went against everything he’d ever been taught.

 _Westergaards are men of action_.

It seemed that whenever Anna was involved, he was always a failure. Because while he could very easily have her body, that wasn’t what he really wanted. Not unless he had her heart to go with it.

It was hell. And it didn’t help when she said those awful little things that snuck past his defenses. The things that surprised him. The things that struck him, piercing his heart and stealing his breath. The things that made him love her more than he already did. But he couldn’t risk tipping the balance any further. Couldn’t risk her seeing him, because he knew once she reached the heart of him, she wouldn’t find what she was looking for.

She’d find a man unworthy of loving instead.

***

After several minutes of waiting alone in the dark, Anna knew he wasn’t coming back. She had sat up seconds after he left, staring at the light under their shared door, wondering what the hell she had done wrong. He’d left her. Right in the middle of their supposed lovemaking.

 _Lovemaking_. What a funny word for her mind to default to. She could have picked ‘laying with’, or ‘copulating’, or even ‘tupping’—any of those would have done. Any of those would have suited the act much better than ‘lovemaking’. She didn’t love Hans.

How could she ever love Hans? She didn’t know a thing about him to love _him_. Oh sure, she knew all about the man he wanted everyone to see, the way he carefully picked out his clothing right down to the very insignificant details, tailoring an image around himself as though he was an actor putting on a costume and playing a role.

She hoped, just maybe, that once he’d shed his clothes, he’d be different. He’d certainly _looked_ different appearing before her in only his nightshirt, intent on tonight being the night they consummated their marriage. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she had certainly not expected him in his bedclothes offering her choices on how she preferred the act to be done as though she was deciding on a menu.

And Hans hadn’t made good on any of his promises anyway.

Not that she should have been surprised.

Except this time, it concerned her. If Hans didn’t make good on his word, eventually it would call the others to her. She shivered. Lennart was already overstepping his bounds, the rumour of Hans’s impotence widely circulating within the house, making the despicable brother bold.

Anna could admit a small relief when Hans had finally come to her bedchamber not only with the intent to sleep with her, but showcasing quite prominently that he had the working equipment to do so. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t still frightened of the idea of him putting _that_ in her, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been enjoying his company earlier either.

 _That_ scared her more than anything.

She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to Hans. She wasn’t supposed to like his touch. He was her husband, but not really by choice. He’d been the best of a bad situation. He’d been the compromise Anna had made in order to keep Elsa safe. In order to keep the Westergaards from ever getting their filthy hands on Elsa or Arendelle.

Elsa would never survive a marriage to a Westergaard, but Anna could. Anna was all too aware of what a Westergaard was capable of. Hans had educated her well in that area. She was prepared.

Only, she had been prepared for Hans, not one of the others. If he didn’t take her properly as his wife… She shuddered at the alternatives, a cold dread washing over her.

Anna knew enough of Hans that she felt they were on somewhat equal footing now. She understood what he was and how he chose to conduct himself. She could anticipate his moods, and after studying him for sometime since they’d been married, she was starting to catch glimpses of him that put him at odds with how she saw him…or rather how he wanted her to see him.

There was just enough uncertainty and doubt in Hans that she could accept her lot in life and be his wife with as much contentment as could be expected for such a situation. He didn’t treat her as though she were the losing adversary in a game he had won.

There was no mistaking that he doted relentlessly on her, and that it had more than once made her the center of wistful envy from her sisters-in-law. While doting was perfectly normal for a man in love, Anna had discovered that it was not normal for a Westergaard.

Hans, she had learned rather quickly, was something of a black sheep within his family, and while in public, this fact never seemed to be of concern to him, in private was another matter.

He did well keeping his perfectly polished veneer up when he caught her watching him, but at times, she thought maybe it was just as exhausting for him to keep up the façade as it was for her watching it.

Something would have to be done. She could see that now. She didn’t know what it was that had kept him from finalizing their marriage properly, only that it seemed to have to do with her specifically. If it was that Hans was trying to spare her feelings, and give her time to adjust—well, that time was over. She knew just as well as he did, that it was time to consummate their marriage vows.

And if she had to go to him to do it? So be it.

With a deep breath and her mind made up, she got out of bed and went to her vanity. Time was of the essence here, but if she was going to have to seduce her own husband, she should at least make herself look somewhat presentable. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth out the wilder locks, before giving her cheeks a good pinch to rouge them up a bit. A quick dip of beeswax balm on her lips and she was ready…almost.

It was bold, but as a last minute impulse, Anna quickly shed her drawers, leaving them on the floor behind her. If she was actually going to go through with this, she wanted to do it right with no mistakes as to why she was there. She gave herself a once over in the mirror before grasping the doorknob to her husband’s bedchamber.

She flung the door open much wider than she’d intended, the door banging against the stopper causing Hans to bolt upright in his bed.

“What are you—”

“—There are two ways we can do this,” she began, much louder than she intended. God, she was practically shouting at him. Her nerves on fire, adrenaline kicking in. She had to consciously lower her voice. “You can either finish what you started, or I’ll finish it for you.”

He stared at her like she was insane for only a moment before his expression shifted back into the cool, bored one he showed in the face of his family. “Go back to bed, Anna.”

“I believe you promised you’d be spending the evening as my lover,” she replied back, matching his tone as carefully as she could. “I hardly think you escaping unannounced to your chambers counts as that.”

“I have no intention of finishing what was started tonight, _nor do you_ , so go back to your bed and call it a night.”

“No intention?” she echoed back, suddenly furious with him. He thought she was bluffing. _Bluffing_! As if she’d be here in his chambers if she wasn’t completely serious on the matter.

It was the quick rise of anger that did it. Even if he had no intention of finishing what he’d started, she most certainly did, and to prove it, she unfastened her nightgown in a fit of blind outrage. The fabric fell away to the floor, leaving her completely exposed before him.

And it was a mistake. A horrible, ill thought mistake because his room was freezing. Absolutely _freezing_.

The moment the crisp night air touched her naked skin, her anger dissipated into a fit of shivers. _Oh God!_ She trembled, trying to keep from hunching over and clutching her arms to her body to generate warmth. Her nipples puckered, pointed straight as arrows, the hair on her goose pimpled arms stood on end, her teeth very nearly chattering. This was _the worst_ idea she had ever come up with, and she hardly looked seductive at all.

But when she met his wide eyed stare with her own defiant one, she was surprised to see she had rendered him a gaping idiot. His mouth fell slack, and she was certain that if he kept staring at her like that, his eyes would surely pop right out of his head.

He blinked, after what felt like hours, and recovered his earlier stance. Anna cursed silently the moment she’d caught the shift in personality. He was going to continue to be difficult, and while she was standing here _naked_ , no less! Why did he have to complicate things? This should have been a fairly easy task. She doubted anyone had ever had _this_ much trouble seducing a man.

“For God’s sake, Anna, enough of this already. You’re not going to go through with this tonight, and regardless of how tempting, I _won’t_. You’re already quaking in fear. I can see you trembling from here. So, I’ll not be taking any terrified virgins to my bed tonight, thank you.”

“I’m not terrified!” she snapped peevishly, wanting to shake him and absolutely throttle him. “I’m freezing! You keep it as cold as Niflheim in here!”

His expression darkened, quick and callous, and something nasty replaced the upstanding gentleman he’d been playing. She jumped, when he suddenly threw back the covers on his bed. He flashed his teeth at her, every bit the devil. The covers were pulled back far enough to remind her that he’d been lying naked in his bed, as if the absence of his nightshirt was somehow forgotten on her.

He patted the empty spot beside him. “Perfectly nice spot to warm yourself up right here, _dearest_.”

And Anna knew a challenge when she saw one. His sudden change in manners, and the expression on his face made her not want to go anywhere _near_ him. But that was exactly the point of it and what he wanted. She saw through him instantly. He was now calling her supposed bluff, waiting for her to turn tail and run back to the safety of her own bed. The joke was on him. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she was freezing, and she wasn’t scared of him either.

She met his gaze firmly and advanced towards the bed. Something flickered in his eyes, breaking the malice. Shock? Surprise? It was gone just as quickly as it came, leaving a blank expression behind. She crawled into his bed, positioning herself on her back and reached over deliberately towards his groin to tug the blankets back and covered herself up.

The instant heat was heavenly. She let out a small sigh of content as she nestled further into his bed, his warmth and scent enveloping her, starting to chase the chill of the night away. Despite herself, she instantly liked the way his sheets held the essence of him, faint with the smell of his cologne and skin, a scent she’d grown accustomed to these past months. Now, it sent an unexpected thrum of pleasure zipping through her.

Hans stayed perfectly still and silent, mollified for the moment as she lay there beside him. Both naked, both under the same blankets and both in the same bed. She stared quietly up at the underside of his bed canopy, heart pounding, and listening to the hurried but steady intake and outtake of his breathing.

There was an unspoken truce in the air. A standstill, a temporary stalemate. Both satisfied to just lie still and let it be for a bit.

She felt his eyes on her well before she glanced over to look at him. They made the briefest eye contact, something intense and hesitant in the moment, when he quickly tore his gaze away to that of the canopy. As though he was guilty of something and had been caught. She wondered how long he’d been looking at her before she had noticed.

She heard him swallow, an audible gulp of air that didn’t quite fit with how she knew Hans liked to be seen.

“I—” He stopped. His voice didn’t sound quite like how she knew it either. She turned to face him, finding him still staring intently at the canopy. “I suppose we ought to turn out the light.”

She shook her head. If they were going to do this, really do this, then she wanted to see him. “No, I want it on.”

He side eyed her then, the look cautious and careful. “Earlier, you’d said—”

“—I changed my mind,” she answered, in a way that she hoped finalized the decision. It was true earlier she hadn’t wanted to see him, but that had been before he’d rushed out of her room after she’d asked him to just be himself.

“I’d rather it off.”

“No,” Anna said firmly, standing on the cusp of a calculated risk, her body alive with anticipation. “If it stays on, I’ll…I’ll let you do it however it is you prefer, regardless of what it is.”

He shifted to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, staring intently at her. His gaze so focused on her that it made her more nervous than she already was. “Why? Why would you do that?”

She had thought about it earlier, for sometime now actually, about how Hans would eventually take her. What sort of lover he’d be, if any at all, and had decided that it was better to know upfront what sort of man he was in bed. Better to know her husband’s tastes from the get go, so she knew exactly what it was she was in for. It would be cruel to be misled again simply because he was trying to woo her or win her over, before pulling back the curtain and revealing another monster later on down the road.

“There is no point in keeping up pretenses.” She tried her best to sound steady and pragmatic, but him staring at her like that made her voice wobble. “It’s only fair I know what to expect in our coupling, so…so I can learn to act accordingly.”

“Come here,” he rasped, his voice raw with something she didn’t quite recognize. He beckoned her closer to him, the abrupt request making her heart absolutely hammer in her chest and blood rush excitedly through her veins.

She hesitated, and his arm snaked out to grab her by the waist and tug her towards him. She let out a small shriek at how briskly he’d pulled her into his arms and up to him. His body curved around hers as if they were a set of nesting dolls with her back nestled perfectly into his front.

He shivered, the tremor reverberating against her back. “God, you really are cold.” A bit of surprise in his tone. And to her astonishment, he gently folded himself around her tighter, his hands encasing hers. He held her that way for a long time, until whatever leftover chill had been chased away. Their bodies quietly snuggled together in a simplicity that sang to her like a lullaby. It felt…nice.

Heat rose to her cheeks, having never been held so intimately before. Once warmed, she wanted to say thank you, that it had been a nice gesture, but it felt weird not to be able to see him. She felt he had chosen such a position on purpose, so that even with the lights on, she couldn’t see him at all. She twisted her body, moving to try and see his face, refusing to allow his cleverness to win.

“Ha—Oh!” Her words cut off in astonishment when her buttocks brushed against the hot, rigid form of his erect manhood. He let out such a heavy gasp that a dart of unexpected heat shot straight to the juncture at her thighs making her gasp herself.

Embarrassed, she was about to jerk away when his palm fell roughly on her hip bone, holding her firmly in place. He rocked his hips, pressing himself tight against her, holding her still, his cock snug on her bottom, content to just stay there. The lack of movement and the heat of his length spurred her own senses, and she fought the urge to push her own body back into him and mirror his response.

His breathing went shallow, and his fingers flexed, tightening their grip on her hip. The tease of his touch almost unbearable when she realized she _wanted_ his hands on her…and lower on her anatomy than they already were. Her body moved on pure desire, pure impulse, and she tentatively pushed her buttocks back into him.

She was rewarded with a soft moan from him, and his palm slid from her hip, but not in the direction her body had been silently demanding. His grip stayed firm as his hand travelled up, stopping to cup a breast. His large hand engulfing her tiny mound and giving it a good, hard squeeze. She raked her teeth across her bottom lip to keep quiet, the sensation causing a distinct warmth to wash over her, ending with a deep longing in her loins.

He moved his hips, pushing against her bottom while she met his thrust with her own, squirming for contact whenever he’d pull away. It was a clumsy sort of rhythm they’d struck up, with his tempo not quite matching hers the way she wanted, but each time his cock rubbed up against her, she thrilled, responding enthusiastically to his touch.

She’d no idea that lovemaking could feel like this. The heady flow of desire, the desperate need to be touched and seek out more of what he gave and meet him in turn, giving it back. How it was all designed by a carnal yearning her body instinctively knew.

How simply being pressed tightly to him while they both writhed against one another could elicit such delight. Nobody had ever told her that coupling would be _fun_. That the more he teased her, the more she wanted him, or how his cock was no longer daunting but instead desired. That now she actually wanted _that_ in her.

The very idea made her cunt ache, made her positively drip with want anticipating _him_. God, she wanted him to touch her. More than anything, she wanted that stiff column sliding along her sex not up against her buttocks.

Frustrated beyond belief, she moved faster, her legs parting wider with each thrust trying to catch the tip of him and slide him forward along her wet slit to where she knew he belonged.

She whimpered in aggravation when his hand moved from her breast back to her hip, jerking her tightly back against him. Halting her movement. She’d never felt so exasperated in her life. She squirmed under his grip, ready to scream at him. She knew what she wanted, knew she could get it from him, but he wouldn’t give it up to her. He was being so unfair, he was—

 _Oh_.

_Oh, oh, oh!_

The warmth of his hand met the warmth of her sex, his fingers slipping through her damp curls and her entire world stopped spinning. She momentarily forgot how to breathe, how think, how to function. She inhaled sharply, lightheaded and hyper aware of everything all at the same time.

Needing more of him, she arched towards his hand, lust taking over. A firm finger slid between her wet folds and she could have died in bliss then.

“ _Yes_ ,” she panted before she could stop herself. Before she could remind herself that it was Hans. That this was a business contract, a marriage of convenience meant to appease the desires of two kingdoms, and not meant to appease her desires. She should at least be acting like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, had been taught to be, and not some wanton harlot writhing and whimpering, desperate for his touch.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to undo her like this, make her forget who he was, who _they_ were. She wasn’t supposed to be spreading her thighs of her own volition, allowing him such easy access and so quickly. This was not how ladies of good standing behaved, especially when he’d wronged her so grievously in the past. But try as she might to care, she simply couldn’t seem to, not while his finger was working her sex, teasing her clit until the little nub was as hard as a pearl, exquisite gratification following.

When he added a second finger, she moaned, really truly moaned. His hips bucked urgently at the sound, and Anna was granted the slick heat of his cock sliding between her thighs and teasing her lips. The two struck up their earlier tempo, trying to match their timing and positioning as though they were both learning the steps to a new dance with a new partner.

He continued to rub her clit while his cock jabbed awkwardly at her entrance, the two finally having to stop their movements briefly so he could get himself positioned properly.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a nervous bit of a laugh, and Anna wasn’t exactly sure why he was apologizing. He’d kept to his word and was taking her as his lover, and she was enjoying herself.

When his fingers began to move again on her, she didn’t really care how uncoordinated he was when he finally entered her. All that mattered was the pleasure that followed, and how him filling her, stretching her wide, was exactly what she’d been craving, aching for. The missing piece to full satisfaction.

He’d satisfied her demands and then some as the first little rumblings of something bigger wrenched forth without warning, consuming her entire being in rapture and passion in an instant. She cried out, surprised and awed she could ever feel this good as her climax peaked. His fingers fell away and Anna had little time to recover from the ecstasy as her performance hastened his thrusting.

***

Unable to help himself, Hans plunged frantically into her, a hurried, excited rhythm that she strived to meet, each stroke gaining him a step closer to blissful completion. They’d found it, that perfect tandem. Perfect rhythm, completely in sync with one another. It had taken him a bit to figure her out, and he’d been so preoccupied with pleasing her, he’d forgotten to keep up his image as the dashing seducer.

Instead, he was Hans. Just Hans. Ungainly and inelegant in his efforts, too eager, too nervous, though she hadn’t seemed to notice. _Thank God_. He couldn’t bear the thought of being caught, stripped of all his defenses in the midst of lovemaking. He’d satisfied her without all his bells and whistles and carefully crafted personas, and it had been…enjoyable. Pleasurable for him in a way he’d never imagined.

He could feel his own orgasm mounting with each thrust as her slick warmth encased him. Almost within his reach if he just kept climbing.

Her walls suddenly tensed around him, her moans much louder, and to his surprise, she was close to another climax. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to hold off just a little longer for her, but she was meeting him thrust for thrust now, goading him on. He moaned with her, _God_ , if he could get the timing right, they’d come together. So close now, so clo—

His cock slipped, not meeting her thrust, and suddenly he was no longer in her, abruptly cut off from her as he glided along her folds instead, ripping them both away from an earth-shattering climax right at the finish line.

 _Oh God_.

He’d screwed it up. _Typical_ Hans.

“Fuck!” he hissed in dismay, horrified that he’d swore out loud and sounded equal parts frustrated and mortified all for her to hear. Heat seared his cheeks. He could fix this. He had to. If he acted fast enough, he could recover from this. “Hang on, sorry.” He pulled away from her, trying to reposition himself, and missed the mark.

He swore again under his breath as he tried a second time. The stress of the situation getting to him. He jabbed blindly, missing her entrance, and instead, very nearly hitting her backdoor. He growled in frustration, and she giggled.

 _Giggled_.

His entire body stiffened at the sound and his blood ran cold. He’d ruined everything and now he was a joke. A goddamned fucking joke to her. And he should have been used to it. It shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. It _did_.

It wouldn’t have if he’d just kept himself in check, kept his mask on, played the seducer, acting like every one of them would have.

 _Westergaards are men of action_.

Except him. Always the failure.

“Please…stop laughing at me.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he absolutely hated the way he sounded. Raw, vulnerable. Weak.

She immediately wriggled around, and he bit off a groan, her body teasing him at the worst possible time. She rolled around so that she was now facing him, staring him right in the eye, searching his face. He looked away, not wanting her to see _him_.

“Hans,” she said softly and he cringed. She reached her hand up to cup his cheek, gently tilting his face so that he had no choice but to look at her. “I’m not laughing at you; I’m laughing because I’m having fun.”

“Fun?” He’d never been more confused. He wasn’t fun to be with. He’d never been fun unless he was deliberately trying to be. And he hadn’t been trying to be.

She nodded earnestly. “I know this is supposed to be serious, but you have to admit—”

But he wasn’t really listening. “Fun…” he said again, interrupting her, and unable to let go of the word. It was so foreign. “With me?”

“Yeah.” She smiled shyly and her cheeks flushed crimson. Her hand was immediately tucking her hair behind her ear in that adorable nervous gesture she did all the time.

And she’d never looked more beautiful to him.

She was almost that girl on the docks who had taken his breath away upon mere sight, but not quite, and maybe that was because she _wasn’t_ the same. But then neither was he. Something had changed tonight between them.

He swallowed hard, knowing that if he didn’t kiss her now, any kiss after would pale in comparison. He leaned his head forward, and ignored the feeling of his heart dropping straight into his stomach.

They’d never kissed properly before. She had never wanted his mouth on hers, and he had never tried. Their wedding ceremony had given way to one tiny, closed mouth peck on the lips, but that had been all. To kiss her now, to partake in something that felt so much more intimate than sex—panic welled up inside him.

But her head was already moving to meet his, ready to accept him, so he kissed her. Soft and unsure, nothing at all like how a Westergaard was supposed to kiss. When he pulled away it was just barely, because he couldn’t stand to be away from her any further than a hair’s width.

His lips brushed against hers in a ghost of a whisper. “Anna.” It was the closest thing to a love confession that he could muster.

And they kissed again. This time deeper, steadier, and a flood of emotion overwhelmed him. Whatever he was or had been, she was going to make love to him. Tonight, he was hers. He’d never know who he’d be in the morning, but right now, he was just himself.

And she knew, one look and she knew. Her lip quirked up slightly, pleased. “There you are.”

She pulled him to her, sinking backwards into the bed, tugging him with her while she spread her legs, allowing him access to her again and hooking her ankles around his hips. She kissed him, long and fierce.

He took her slowly at first, their mouths moving faster than their hips until the pretenses of decency faded and carnal instinct took over. Both searching out the gratification that had eluded them for far too long. He held her, hard and fast, moaning into her neck while she gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in, chasing pleasure with a tenacity neither had known.

She cried out, her body arching in pleasure as she peaked, following quickly by him. He shuddered against her, the final notes of ecstasy drifting to each and every nerve ending, and they fell apart, exhausted, sated.

She stared up at the canopy, shivering, so he yanked the blanket up higher over their bodies, wanting nothing more than to stay snuggled up with her for the night. For forever.

Beaming from ear to ear, she asked, “Does it always feel like this?”

It was a rhetorical question, one not meant to be answered, but he did anyway.

“I don’t know,” he answered timidly. “I’ve never felt like this.”


End file.
